Farm Girl Has Bad Boy (#3)

Chapter Thirty-Three

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I assure Emery for the third time. I watch him roll his eyes as he strips off his shirt, revealing is scarred chest. “I’m sure she’ll know you love her a lot without the necessity of getting it tattooed on your heart.”

He hands me his black shirt and I sink into the chair in the tattoo parlour. Bouncing Haven lightly on my knee, I watch Emery as he lies back on the table. It’s been a month since Haven was born and we fell into the parent role pretty quickly with the great help from my mother. However, that doesn’t exactly mean that it’s anywhere near easy.

“At least this ink has meaning,” Brock, the tattoo artist who had sold me Emery’s birthday gifts responds. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of people coming in here just to get stupid tattoos.” He starts fixing the tattoo needle as I scoot my chair closer to Emery. I intertwine his fingers between mine and pray that he doesn’t break my hand when he squeezes it. “Ready?”

Emery pulls out a slip of paper from his pocket and hands it to Brock who looks it over. He nods a few times and places it on Emery’s stomach while he leans over his chest. I watch Emery close his eyes tightly as the needle touches his skin, causing him to clench his teeth.

“So did you do this yourself?” Brock asks, starting on the cursive letter H over Emery’s heart. Emery nods as he starts to squeeze my hand. “Well, even though it’s just lettering, it’s not bad. The details pretty good. You draw?”

“Not since kindergarten,” Emery mutters, still not opening his eyes.

“That’s a shame. With practice, you could become a good artist.”

Haven starts to whine in my arms, either bored from just sitting here or hungry. I start to dig in my purse for her pacifier and when I find it, she’s already started being quiet. Emery’s smiling at her, letting her curl her tiny hand around his thumb.

“So what are your plans for the future?” Brock asks, trying to distract Emery from the pain. “School, a job?”

“I have no idea, but I need to figure something out soon,” Emery replies, meeting my gaze. We’ve been trying to figure everything out for the past few weeks before we move into our new house. However we still haven’t and my dad said it would be ready for us when we get back, including furniture moved in and everything. Right now, it seems the military is the only option, and that’s the last thing I want.

“Well, maybe this is a long shot,” grunts Brock, starting to finish up the basic outline of the last part of Haven’s name. “But if I asked you to draw up some designs, and you were any good, I could offer you an apprenticeship here.”

“Are you being serious?” Emery tilts his head up to look at Brock, who pauses his work to meet Emery’s eyes.

“Yeah. At first you wouldn’t be making any money for being an artist, because you’d have to learn a lot before you actually ink someone. But while you learn you can do the cash and help people.” Brock turns to grin at me. “From what your girlfriend bought you a while back, you seem like you would fit in perfectly here.”

Emery leans his head back down with a huge smile on his lips. “Well, I better start warming up my kindergarten drawing skills.”

One Hour Later:

“Wow,” I say breathlessly. Emery squeezes my hand as we stare up at the house sitting in front of us. Or, as I should say, our house.

“It turned out pretty good, didn’t it?” My dad says, standing beside me. Haven gurgles in my mother’s arms as I try to take in the fact that I’m not even eighteen, and I already have my own house.